Last One Standing
by D4n4-Ch4n
Summary: (Rating subject to change) Nightriver is not like other Tayledras. Kanwel is no normal human, and his sister Hortense is not what she seems.
1. Faith Onward

A/N: this stroy decided to pop up after I finished reading "Magic's Pawn"... and "Owlsflight"... and starting "Storm Watching"... and rereading a good number of Mercedes's stuff and noting just how SLASHY she really is! It amazed me. Anyway, these little kiddies decided to show up be known. Lucky, lucky me, ne? Well, we'll see what happens. R&R please; I need the input to decide whether I should kill them all now, or let them kill each other later one, or what. 

TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!! 

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Warnings: language, mild violence, slash 

Note: _thoughts_, _:mind-speak(bondbirds, dyheli, hertasi, etc):_, _mind-speak(person-to-person), &flashbacks&, _**emphasis**

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**_Last One Standing_**

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_Faith Onward_

The day was warm, the sun nigh onto zenith. In a grove in one of the darker corners of a large Vale sat a young man, hunched over his work, and a large griffin, wing outstretched for the diligent youth, crested head raised to the warm sun. Above circled a large carrion bird, barely a circling speck, until it began to descend. 

Trondi'irn Nightriver k'Rika didn't look up as his bondbird, a large raven by the name of Bry, swooped into the clearing he sat in, focusing instead on the waterproofing oils he applied slowly to his charge, his young counterpart, Rena. 

The griffin turned her large golden head, glaring at the black bird that now perched on the bough closest to them, and snapped her cruelly hooked beak at the raven, who squawked indignantly, and lifted off again, alighting beside his human. 

_:Danger,:_ he uttered suddenly, nipping at Nightriver's knuckles. The young Tayledras scout sighed, and looked down at his large raven. _:Scared.:_

_:Who?: _he demanded, raising one fine, dark brow. 

Unlike most Tayledras, even the younger scouts, Nightriver still retained his dark hair. He could remember, not too long past, when he'd been Moonrain, before the Elders had noted how little the magic sapped him of his dark, nearly blue-black hair. His eyes, however, had taken on the classic, almost surreal, icy blue of his kin, looking almost out of place on his richly tanned face, beneath the fall of his dark hair. 

Also, unlike most of his k'Rika brethren, Nightriver didn't talk much, or seem inclined to take up conversation - in or out of bed - with any of his fellow scouts. He was a shy young man, preferring the company of the griffin he attended and his young bondbird. 

To him, it was a good life. 

Until Bry started talking in riddles. 

Through the link, Nightriver saw a flash of a young man and woman, riding strange beasts. Both were deathly, sickly pale, the girl with an almost green hue to her complexion; the boy had blood slowly seeping from his hairline down over the left side of his face. Both had light hair. The girl was hunched over the bow of her saddle on the back of her mount - the creature looked almost to Nightriver like a changeWolf - while the young man looked about. 

Along with the sight came a shouting of pain, anguish, and even the lightest douse of madness. He looked sharply to Bry, who hopped in place and snapped his beak. 

_:Danger. Sad. Hurt. Nightriver help!: _Bry proclaimed, and cawed sharply, making Nightriver cringe a moment. _:Nightriver help pretty boy and sister!:_

_:Bry...: _Nightriver began, before looking over at Rena, who had lifted her wing from his lap and was shaking herself out a bit. "Rena?" he murmured, his voice soft and unsure. 

"Well, I hearrrd him asss well asss you did," she stated, ruffling the feathers about her neck. "And we haven't anything betterrr to do. It would not hurrrt to go sssee what they are doing in ourrr landsss." 

Nightriver sighed; outvoted by a raven and a gung-ho griffin. He shook his head, but stood, stretching out the kinks in his back, and casting his pale, nearly silver eyes to the sky. 

_The patrols aren't back yet,_ he mused to himself, carefully guarding his thoughts. _The Elders won't miss another scout and bird._

&&&&&&

__

__

Kanwel tried to keep his hands on the reigns, away from the heft of the sword that weighed unsurely, foreign, on his right hip. It was always the right. It was where his daggers would be, had his daggers not been lost, embedded in the eyes and hearts of unknown, unnamed marauders, in the guts of the men whom had killed his father and brothers and burnt his mother and tried to rape his sister. 

He cast a sideways glance at his twin, the once glorious Hortense. Now she slumped uncomfortably in her saddle, her long, golden hair dappled with blood and other things Kanwel didn't want to think about. Her ears had been severed at the tip, the only outward sign to her torment beside the already fading bruises. 

Supposedly, he was lucky. They both were. Both had left their village alive and relatively well, with weapons and mounts and most of their spirits. But Hortense was ill, and he suffering from some unknown madness he was sure was dictated by the mutilated bodies he'd left back in their village, along with those remains of their family. 

Their clothing was torn, hanging from their lank and drawn bodies. His breath felt heavy; that surprised him little, having left the steep hills to the much easier ground in the forest that had greeted them on the other side of the seemingly insurmountable heights. 

"Hort'," Kanwel chirped in their home tongue. The girl, with her long golden hair and once bright emerald eyes, barely stirred at his prompting. "Hort', would you like to stop for a while? The forest is nice here." 

Hortense groaned slightly, as though in a deep trance, and Kanwel reached over with one slightly shaking hand to pull her mount to a stop. When both steeds were still, he clambered from his saddle, and walked them a few feet off the trail, breaking branches to mark his way back. After a good few minutes tromping through underbrush, he halted, and tied off their beasts, before lifting Hortense from her saddle; she groaned again. 

"Hort', I'm going to lay you down for a minute, then I'm off to find water, see if I can find some rabbit," he uttered softly, removing his cloak and spreading it over the pine-needle littered floor, resting her atop it. "Toland and Ugo are here; call for me, if there is trouble." 

She uttered something into his neck which he assumed was an affirmative, and he smiled slightly. That was something for him. With gentle ease, he laid her down, and took off further into the brush, breaking twigs and bush-branches along his way. 

There was something wrong with this forest. He didn't know what, and fancied he didn't **want** to know, but he knew, by the gods, he was **not** going to get lost and leave Hortense all alone. 

After an hour of seemingly aimless wanderings, left to his own thoughts, Kanwel finally came across a small brook, which burbled merrily about it's way, tumbling over rocks, and through the reeds that lined it's edge. He sighed, wanting longingly to strip of his rank clothing and wash himself off the sweat, grim and foulness that still infused his body, but he declined, dipping instead to fill his canteen to the lip with the crystal clear mountain water; he wondered, for the briefest of moments, if when he returned to his sister if he should boil the water before letting her have any of it. 

He passed the idea when he heard Hortense calling for him. Her soft voice was feeble, be clearly distraught. He clipped the canteen to his hip, and whipped swiftly through the brush, trusting to his sure footing to keep him on the trail he'd marked. 

He'd, in fact, not actually been too far away from where he'd tethered their beasts and left his sisters. But now, along with his frail twin and the two large, snarling mounts stood three of the most unusual things he'd ever seen. 

A being, half like a big cat, half like a giant eagle, glared contemptuously at Toland and Ugo, a burbling growl echoing from it's richly feathered breast. Beside it stood a tall young man with unearthly silver-blue eyes, long, dark hair with feathers woven into a few thin braids and richly tanned skin. Atop the man's shoulder sat a raven of unimaginable size, looking down at Hortense as though she were some tasty bit of carrion to devour, should she move the least bit. 

Kanwel's eyes grew round, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached for the blade on his broad hip, and skidded into the clearing, falling into a rough stance before his sister. Hortense's thin, frail hands gripped at his pant legs, and the dark man took a step back at his appearance; Kanwel took the hand he was given. 

"You will not touch her!" he roared, though it tore at his throat. All ready, he could hear the clamor of others trying to invade his mind, a dull ache echoing between his ears as his hand turned slightly warm where he gripped the heft. "The dark will not be to your avail, foul-thing! Avast, brigand!" 

The man stared at him a moment, before looking to the bird on his shoulder. After a long moment, the man chuckled slightly, and bowed his head, sweeping his arms away from his body as the raven left his shoulder. 

_I apologize, bright one._

__Kanwel growled, and shook his head, trying to keep this newest voice out. The sword slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, and the voices ceased with a suddenness that left a ring in his ears; that new one still rang, sharp and clear, deep and somehow concerned. 

"No... No, stay out. You will only help them..." he muttered incoherently, holding his head. He fell to his knees, suddenly tired, and felt Hortense wrap her lean, delicate arms about him. "Leave us alone..." 

&&&

Nightriver had been surprised to find the girl alone, and had looked up a little as Bry alighted heavily on his shoulder. 

_:Are you sure -?: _he had begun, but the bondbird had ruffled his feathers, as though indignant to be guessed against. 

_:Pretty boy by river. Nightriver help sister.:_

_:I... I suppose so.:_

Rena had given them both a sidelong look as Nightriver had carefully stepped out into the clearing with the barest ruffle of leaves. He was one of the best scouts the Tayledras had, for how lean he was, how light amid the brush. 

The strange changeWolves had shifted, turning their long, wide faces towards him as they caught his sent. One, the larger one, growled slightly, a deep, guttural, bubbly sound that made the girl open her eyes. 

They were green, Nightriver noted offhandedly, and she had once been beautiful. But now the wears of he knew not what had made her skin sallow, drawn against the bones of her face until she resembled a skull that retained hair - which, too, had once been fine, but was now gnarled and stringy. 

She caught sight of Nightwind just as Rena entered the clearing, prepared to use her deadly talons on the beasts, should they chose to loosen their lines and turn on them. Bry poked Nightriver in the ear. 

_:Nightriver talk. Help sister. Pretty boy be back soon; no worry.:_

_:Right...:_

"H-hatchling..." he whispered, trying desperately not to frighten the skinny wraith of a girl that reclined before him. He knew it was foolish, thinking the girl could even remotely understand his words, but he knew even tone was sometime soothing. 

The girl seemed not to think as much. No sooner had he taken a step forward that she began to wail hideously, closing her eyes and clamping her hands down over her ears with force that seemed nearly bruising just to watch. 

And no sooner had the wail begun that Nightriver heard a figure rushing through the brush. No doubt the youth Bry had dubbed 'pretty boy'. 

And indeed he was. As he erupted from the trees, he drew a sword from the scabbard on his hip, and fell in before his sister, who instantly ceased her screeching. He was tall, almost as tall as Nightriver, and well built, broad in the shoulders and hips, with the same golden hair and green eyes as his sister; the hair was in better quality, falling in shocking waves around his lean face and the lightly tilted eyes that were far clearer than his sisters. 

He shouted something hoarsely at him, brandishing the sword in a tight, two-handed grip. His brow was furrowed, and a tick had started at his temple, beating sluggishly. 

_:Pretty boy say you stay 'way from sister. Say you brigand.: _Nightriver almost laughed aloud at the little mental picture Bry sent with the translations - a Nightwind with beads of glass and war paint standing on the bow of a ship. He chuckled dryly, thinking the idea foolish, and swept into a bow that dislodged Bry with an upset squawk, and probed at the boy's mind a moment, before trying something he knew he oughtn't. 

_I apologize, bright one,_ he murmured into the boy's mind. The blond boy's eyes widened, and he mumbled something knew as the sword slid from his lax grasped, thudding to the ground beneath him. His eyes unfocused a moment, and he tumbled back towards his sister. 

Without intent in mind, Nightriver moved towards them both. The boy groaned slightly, turning away from him, and the girl opened her mouth, as though to shriek again. Nightriver risked speaking again. 

"No." The word was simple, and not easily misunderstood when he held a finger to his lips and shook his head. "H-Help." He patted his chest, and then placed a hand on the boy's brow. 

It was tacky and warm to the touch, and he turned to look at Rena. The griffin nodded her great golden head and stepped forward; already she seemed to know how to speak to the two youngsters, and spoke to them shortly, kindly, as Nightriver moved away and lifted his arm for Bry. 

_:They ok?: _the raven asked softly of his mind, rubbing against his temple like a cat. 

_:They will be fine. I need you to get back to the Vale and tell some of the other scouts what's happening. They'll want to see these two. And their mounts.:_

As the raven took off from his arm, Rena had finally prompted the two golden children onto their mounts again, and was walking with them slowly out of the forest. Nightriver managed to snag onto Rena's harness, and lift himself into the pouch on it, compacting himself until he could clamber onto her back and ride properly.

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A/N: well.... that was interesting, ne? Introducing: Nightriver, Kanwel, Hortense, and all the other crazy fun people! R&R, I'm begging you. I already have the next chapter started... -.-;


	2. Dream A Little

Aiya. Lucky me, another chapter! w00t! Thanx to my reviewers; you are much loved! hands cookies to reviewers!

I was thinking of taking down the first part to edit it, since I fixed my spelling errors... but I'm too lazy. And it's not like there were huge major ones. 8-)

So, here's the next chapter. Hope you have fun!

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_Dream A Little_

_:Tori! Nar!:_

The two bondbirds looked up at the urgent call that rang through them. Tori, a grand, once golden eagle, turned his now silver head towards the skies, shifting on his perch to inspect the sky. Nar, a much smaller goshawk, hopped about immediately, her intent golden eyes searching the clouds as well. 

Tori let out a squall as he spotted Bry flapping swiftly towards them, and lifted himself to meet with the raven. 

_:What happen?: _he demanded tersely, slightly offended at being awoken by the rambunctious black bird. _:Where foolish human?:_

_:Go find own foolish humans. Nightriver bring pretty boy and sister. Need help!: _Nar had caught up by that point, and circled them slowly, before landing on a branch near them both. Bry practically collapsed beside her, ruffling his wings. 

_:Who pretty boy? Who sister?: _Nar asked excitedly, flapping her wings energetically. Tori alighted the bough facing them, though his gaze was turned back to the Vale, towards where he knew his human would be. 

&&&&&&

Rena landed gracefully, but even before she'd made a complete stop, Nightriver had vaulted from her feathered back, and was approaching the two disgruntled Mage that stood just beyond the cover of their Vale. 

Adept Moonshadow had his arms crossed angrily over his chest, all humor gone from his blue eyes. He shook his long silver braids out of his face with a jangle of trinkets, and tapped one finely shod foot. His golden eagle, Tori, looked smugly down at Nightriver, as though he knew something horrid was about to happen. 

Moonshadow's mate, Adept-Healer Winterrain, sighed slightly, and moved forward as the two golden children rode up on the backs of their mounts. With the practiced ease of one working with the fragile, she lifted them both from their mounts, and ushered them away towards the Vale. 

Nightriver made to follow, only to have Tori screech angrily at him and find Moonshadow's imposing form in his path. He gulped slightly, and lowered his head. The older Tayledras glowered a moment, surveying the young scout. 

Nightriver was no naive child of middling strength. Even when the boy, orphaned very early on in his life, had just begun his intern with the griffins, Moonshadow had seen the makings of a great Adept in him, as well as a scholar of impressive barring. The boy was intelligent, unbiased, and slow to anger. 

He was also just that: a child, like any other new scout. Even though he sported the eyes of a man twice, maybe three times his age in severity, he still had only the body of an eighteen year old. 

"We will have to destroy the beasts, Nightriver," Moonshadow uttered slowly, starting with the small things. The dark haired scout frowned slightly, and forced himself to speak. 

"Th-they are a-all the ch-children have," he murmured, his tones barely above the wind. "C-could we not -." 

"They are **Changeling**s, Nightriver," Moonshadow snapped, and looked over to the large, wolf-like animals. They were hideous, at best, with their shaggy, ugly coats and beady, unintelligent eyes, their long fangs and claws. The larger of the two fixed him with a decidedly venomous look, as though he knew what would happen to him. 

_But that's impossible, _Moonshadow reminded himself. _These beings have no more intelligence then a rabbit or particularly stubborn horse. Speaking of stubborn..._

__"Y-you c-can't!" Nightriver insisted, his eyes darting over Moonshadow's face, then falling to a space around the vicinity of his left shoulder, beyond towards the Vale. "Th-they n-**need** them! A-after wh-wh-what hath ha-hap-p-pened to them -!" 

"It's not necessarily up to me, Nightriver," Moonshadow interjected subtly. He patted a hand onto the boy's shoulder, and squeezed. "That will be the decision of the counsel. As of now, you just need to explain to me just **what** is going on here." 

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Kanwel awoke to a throbbing headache, and the softest murmurs of the Voices, picking at the back of his brain like pigeons at a hanging, waiting for the bread crumbs left after the spectators threw in their tribute to the dead. He could hear the light burble of real conversation as well, in a language he knew naught of; people moved around him, slight wraiths to his blurred vision. 

His lashes weighed heavily on his cheeks, and he struggled to pry them apart. But, before his eyes were fully opened, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and once more a firm, but gentle voice echoed in the confines of his mind. 

_Calm yourself, hatchling, _this voice murmured, a softly cultured woman's tones. Then the lightest chuckle. _Wouldn't want to strain yourself, my child. Slowly now; try again._

Slowly, he let his eyes work away the grim that held them closed. For a moment, his vision remained blurred, until he could finally focus on the woman leaning over him; and focus he did. 

For all her long, white hair that made her look ages old, she had the soft, rounded face of a young woman, the bright blue eyes of the young, lined with long black lashes. Her nose was long, narrow, sitting pretty above pouting lips and below almost painfully arched eyebrows, a smooth forehead. Her fingers were long, fine and gentle on his shoulder. 

His gaze slid lazily from her to the cot on his other side, and he let out a strangled little groan to see his sister laying helter-skelter and strewn carelessly over the bedding, as though uncared for. 

Like he'd found her, in the highest house in the village, just before the barbarian had -. 

His groan was full-bodied this time, and the Voices flared. A white light overcame his vision for the moment, as those screaming Voices bubbled through his senses like acid, laughing and crowing and wishing release in the only form they knew: violence. 

When his vision had cleared finally, he realized he must have been making quite a fuss. the woman with the white hair had moved away from him, her eyes wide and wild; there were two other young women - both with the striking white hair - holding down his arms. 

And the young man whom had found them sat across his hips, holding him firmly down. His head was turned to speak with the first woman swiftly, and Kanwel tried to recover from the momentary lapse. 

It wasn't the first time such things had happened to him. But none had happened since they'd left the village, the last of the churl dead behind them. In fact, he couldn't rightly remember most of battles that had preluded their escape from the decimated town. 

With a bewildered, ashamed groan, he realized that he'd not only opened the wound on his forehead, but was now crying in anguish. The young man who straddled his waist seemed to note his plight, and almost instantly scrambled off, hanging his head. A definitive blush had risen onto the dark haired boy's cheeks, and he muttered some sort of apology, before scrambling off like he'd done ill. 

&&&

Nightriver held down the thrashing boy, and shifted himself expertly as the attendants moved up to grab his hands. He turned his head to look at Winterrain, trying to shake herself of the sudden fright. 

"Wh-what h-hap-p-pened?" he demanded swiftly, only half noting that the golden child was beginning to calm. 

"I don't know!" she answered, obviously perturbed. "One moment I was mindspeaking with him, telling him that he was all right. The next, he started to go berserk, thrashing about like a fish out of the water." 

_:Bry?:_ he tried, desperate for an answer. The boy was rousing slowly, and he didn't much relish the idea of being astride a strange boy's hips when that happened. 

He'd been hit enough time by boys he **did** know to know better than that. 

_:He hurts:_ was all the raven returned with, infusing the words with feelings of betrayal, anguish, anger, vengeance. Bloodlust. 

_Is there an Empath around?_ he asked Winterrain, desperate for an answer now. K'Rika was a small Vale, with only a few Mages who weren't almost always on active duty, Winterrain and her daughter Hightree among them. 

_Greenblade is. But he's on a patrol for the week. Will they last that long, do you think? Nightriver?_

The boy below him was almost fully around now, and he looked blearily through tears and a few streamers of blood. He gave an unintelligent groan, though of anguish or surprise at being straddled, Nightriver couldn't tell. 

He settled to be safe, and moved off the blond youth, scurrying out of the Healing tent. An accosted looking Hertasi snapped at him as he flew past the lizard-creature, but Nightriver paid no mind, rushing towards his ekele and bondbird, the comfort of his bed, and a few things he had with him that none need know he have. 

When he reached his ekele, he was glad to note the scout he shared it with was not present. He practically vaulted onto his pallet, and reached under his pillow, pulling forth a small, wellworn child's toy. Leather bound the down-stuffing of a plush, fat little toad of a doll. Nightriver hugged it to his chest, and clenched his eyes shut tightly, rocking back and forth on his cot, muttering nonsense to himself as he felt tears leak out from between his long lashes and roll down his round cheeks. 

Bry, from his perch, watched the young Tayledras, obviously distraught over the young scout's plight. He hopped down, and fluttered awkwardly to the boy's side, nudging him with the tip of his beak, letting out a short squawk when the boy looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. 

_:I-I'm sorry, Bry. I'm no good at this; they're so new, and I want to help, but -.:_

___:No more, Nightriver. No cry. Happy. Good. Pretty boy and sister stay 'while.: _Bry sent a flash of something akin to joy through their link, and Nightriver smiled wanly. His tears had eked away his strength, and his body screamed for rest. 

So he bent, and slowly nestled down on his cot, curling around his doll, his bondbird watching over him with respect and no little worry for his well-being. 

&&&&&&

The times did not improve. As Moonshadow had stated, the golden children's beasts were destroyed; the Elders said it was for the safety of k'Rika, but Nightriver had a feeling that it was more to keep the two children from leaving the Vale. 

The girl's health was deteriorating, despite what Winterrain and Hightree tried to do for her. They said she had been inflicted with more than flesh wounds, that her wounds were mostly spiritual and emotional, and to solve those, they would not only need an Empath, but a translator as well. With no dyheli around, they would have to settle for mindspeech, which they knew frightened both youths. 

The boy was becoming more reclusive, and more prone to his moments of insanity, especially after somebody spoke mind-to-mind with him. Winterrain and Hightree had no cure of that, or even a reason why it was so. 

Nightriver transcribed these finding onto a clean sheet of parchment as Hightree finished speaking before the counsel, and sat beside her mother, father, and their bondbirds. Her own bondbirds, a murder of crows five strong - Sam'i, Cra, Yun, Tiv and Gren - all hopped about as she sat, making little sounds at her. Yun, Tiv and Gren were all barely old enough to fly, and so she scooped them protectively onto her lap while Sam'i fluttered off into the night - no doubt to Hightree's ekele - and Cra flapped onto her shoulder. 

Nightriver had always that Hightree a bit of an oddity, even more so than he. She had almost no magic to speak of, which was rare, since both her parents were Adepts; almost since the moment she was born, she'd been bonded with Cra and her mate Sam'i, who had only just successfully bred that year; she was blind in one eye, almost inept with any weapon except a hunting knife, and had brown eyes with only the slightest hint of silver on the edges, telling of her vicinity to the nodes of the Vale. Those eyes were the **only** hints as well, since her hair was naturally white-blond; no matter that she'd never truly left the Vale. It was just how she was. 

He turned his attention to the new speaker, scribing notes swiftly as the scout covered what he'd gleaned of the world outside of their Vale. According to him, the forests further south, towards k'Treva territory, were being destroyed, slowly but surely. The scout knew not why, but made a hinted suggestion that the Elders send an envoy to speak with those of k'Valdemar to try and find out was happening to the Pelagiris Forests. 

When the meeting ended, Nightriver slowly collected his things, passing them to the Elder in charge of that one with his head bowed. The woman, old enough to be Nightriver's grandam, raised a brow at his downcast gaze, and grabbed his sleeve gently before he could leave the circle of light the fire broadcasted. 

"Is something the matter, Nightriver? I'm no Empath, but even I can see something troubles you." The dark haired scout bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. He held it up to the light, searching for the white strands that should have filled it all. 

None were there, as always. He sighed slightly. 

"Th-these n-new p-p-people, Elder. Th-they c-c-conf-fuse m-me," he admitted slowly. The woman smiled, and patted his shoulder. Her own white hair, he noted, still held a hint of dark red, and her eyes still held a gleam of brown in them. 

"That is not uncommon, Nightriver. Even those young scouts who have spend time with k'Valdemar find them odd and distressing. These children are not of anything we know; they are not of this land." 

"D-do y-you th-th-think... th-the d-dyh-h-heli w-will h-h-help?" he asked softly, looking up at her with his big blue eyes. She smiled a little, and touched his cheek gently. 

"I hope so, Nightriver. Now, be on. The night is not as young as some of our kin seem to think. I'm sure Firewing is of a fluster where you've gotten at." Nightriver gave a tittering little laugh and shook his head slowly, tugging on his hair as his eyes darted about. 

"H-he l-l-likes it w-when I-I'm not a-a-around. M-means he c-c-can b-bed more g-g-girls." Again, he chuckled, blushing shyly. The Elder frowned a little mockingly, then joined in his soft laughter as her bondbird - a gyre hawk - rousted onto her shoulder. 

"Well, pray to the Goddess he doesn't bed **too** many. Fare eve, Nightriver." 

"F-fare e-eve, Lady Darkstorm," he replied, and bowed swiftly, turning and making his way out of the ring of light. 

As he strode towards his ekele, he was struck suddenly by a feeling of being watched. He slowed gradually, looking around with keen eyes, but saw nothing, and instead sped his pace, hoping to lose the burn that had started between his shoulder blades. When no such respite came, he sighed, and began a roundabout way to the hut he occupied, reaching the tree just as the feeling left him - it was the third time it had dissipated in his wonderings. 

Firewing was in fact sitting in their ekele when he arrived, but there were no young ladies with him tonight. He lounged by one of the windows, staring out into the starry sky indulgently, and barely paid him a second glance as he climbed in. 

The other boy was quite attractive. His were not the normal, hawkish features customary of most Tayledras, telling of his mixed blood; he carried the high cheek bones and deeply sunken eyes of his father's family, but his lips were fuller, his nose longer and more rounded, telling of his mother. White-gold hair was shorter than most, save for a long, thin braid behind his left ear, and a short tail at the nape of his neck, while the rest waved about his angular face, brushing at the corner of his silvery-blue eyes. Long, curling lashes still retained the last vestiges of his original color, sitting blue-black against his lightly tanned, slightly flushed cheeks. 

"Where have you been?" he demanded curtly, his voice resounding in a silky purr from his broad chest. Nightriver repressed the shiver that voice caused, knowing Firewing's reaction to his own. 

"C-c-counsel," Nightriver stammered out, and sat down in a vacant chair, flipping his hair over his shoulder to loosen the braids and beads that were woven into it's dark, shimmering mass. 

Firewing watched his reflection in the window, and furrowed his brow, confused by how worried he'd been about the younger scout. He examined the situation carefully within his mind, flustered with himself. 

_Here sits a boy seven years my junior. His hair is unnaturally dark, he rarely speaks, spends his time with a raven and a gryphon. He doesn't like women, doesn't seem to like other men, but yet blushes whenever a boy looks at him out of the corner of his eye. And here I sit, seven years his senior, about two-thirds his strength in magic - untrained or no - boasting myself about like a popinjay, flirting endlessly with as many of the k'Rika girls as I can spot, not to mention a few girls that **aren't** k'Rika. I sleep in the room beside his, and wonder these things as those girls sleep beside me; I am one of those boys who looks at him out of the corner of my eye..._

_**What**, by the goddess, is wrong with me!?_

Nightriver suddenly looked over at Firewing, as though he could here the other boy's mental musings, and the paler scout wondered for a moment if he **could**. Firewing knew he had a tendency to stop shielding when he was distraught. 

_I'm going to bed,_ Nightriver informed him. Firewing gave an indifferent grunt of ascetion, and waved his hand, pulling his braid over his shoulder and playing with it, running the tail over the palm of his hand. 

_Maybe... I'm just worried. This must be what it's like to feel like an older brother._

_Yes... that's it. He's like my brother. That's why I was worried._

Firewing resigned, not believing in a word he'd 'convinced' himself of.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

That's all for now! New chapter will be up soon, once Nightriver decides to come out of hiding.

Oh! And meet Firewing! He may or may not get a bigger role later on, depending on what you guys think. Heck, if you like him enough, he might even end up getting his own little bit of a story... if he stops sitting in the corner that is...

R&R plz! Thanx 4 reading!


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